Bobby's Experiments in Whiskey: Episode One

I was drinking some fine Jim Beam tonight and felt like sprucing it up a bit. Now, usually, when I am in a bourbon mood I just drink it straight, but there was just something in the air that said to me "try something you might regret." I, thereby, went to the kitchen and found that I had no sort of drink to mix into my whiskey and, indeed, all I had that might be compatible were a few peppermint candy canes.

"What the hell," said I in my normal bad ass way and broke up a few candy canes in the bottom of my rocks class. I then proceeded to pour the Beam unto said canes and after swirling for several minutes, I allowed myself to take the sent of the whiskey. It had all the usual Beam overtones with a subtle, yet, pleasant and relaxing undertone of mint.

After another minute of swirling I decided it was time for tasting. The bourbon had turned a light red that was, really, quite charming. I poured a a few drops onto my tongue.. dum dum... dum dumm.. and, surprising even myself, what met my taste buds was not an onslaught of awful pillaging my palate, but indeed, a smooth and tasty treat.

It was as if Santa Claus, dear old Saint Nick, was your grandfather who, though always kindly, drank a bit too much for his own good and then some how was distilled into a tasty holiday treat. I recommend it for times of reminiscing and sitting around the fire near Christmas time. It would be good to mix into some sort of holiday drink. Perhaps and eggnog or some festive treat yet to be discovered. A peppermint whiskey hot toddy would be quite superb, I do believe.

On a side note, Jim Beam is currently supporting Terry Farrell Firefighter's Fund. With each purchase of a special bottle Jim Beam donates to the fund. The fund itself donates slightly used fire fighting equipment to areas that can not afford new equipment. It is a noble cause. think about buying a bottle today.

Confusion

Sometimes, I question why I am in college. I don't really enjoy my studies. I enjoy applying my skills, yes... but, those were gained more through private study then through organized classes. Yes, courses like linguistics have been actually informational... but, really I doubt that I will apply that knowledge extensively unless I teach at some point -which I am not interested in. I could make a higher salary as a truck driver then a starting teacher and then, through investing, let my money work for itself.

It is a question of what I really want to do in life. Apparently, I am supposed to know that information by now... sadly, I don't. There are things I want out of life. i.e. I would like to have a family to take care of, a quiet place out in the country with a workshop, and a good guitar to play. I don't feel the need to have coffers full of cash: I just hope for a life rich in love and art.

The path I am taking currently seems to gear me to be a part of either academia or a profession as a technical writer. Are these things I would want? No... if I am to actively use my degree I would only really want to write fiction or columns or, perhaps, poetry (not that there is any demand for poetry anymore). So, what to do?

I suppose I could write grants. I think that I could at least find a company that is associated with the arts; or a noble cause.

I really would like to write fiction. I have plenty of projects, they are all just in the planning stages. I get background information gathered and then I move onto another project. Hell, I have diagrammed the circulatory system, including fangs, of a vampire and have come up with and explanation of how vampires transmute some of their victims into vampires. I abandoned this project because I found out about those damned Twilight books. I should just finish it; why the hell don't I? Laziness? I have story book outlined with a few illustrations down the hatch. It's called Bert the Bear; it's about a former circus bear who now lives in an abandoned cabin in the forest. I won't give anything else away because I know you are all dieing to steal stories for children's books.

Assassin, I could totally be an assassin. We'll leave it at that.

A carpenter? I love working with my hands.

I just don't know. I think I need a muse. Or, time away from school to think about things that matter. But no, I have to finish. I can't have wasted all these years. I just can't admit that yet.

A poem will come tomorrow. Or is it today, now. Soon enough.

Think on this:

Has there really ever been anything more unlikely than a Scotsman and Jafar becoming friends? Through music, holiday traditions and a shared interest in the writings of Machiavelli this bond was able to come to life. (Pictured: My friend Jim and Me when I was thinner)

Some Old Poems

One From Freshman Year

Love, let me not hunger,

for me, may your sweet seeds be sown

Love, let me not wander,

set on this world, all but alone.

I've held on for what feels like forever.

But the darkness overwhelms me, it seems.

But still, I cry out for just one shimmer,

of that light I've seen only within dreams.

Love, bring me forth to tomorrow,

to green pastures far, far away.

Love, lead me forth from this sorrow,

to hold me softly in your sway.

Love, set me down as one of your servants,

and show me your will and your way.

Love, set me free of my petty laments,

and guide me to some other day.

It is really odd looking back on old poems are seeing how one has changed. Now-a-days, I would seldom ever use this form; or, if I did, I would standardize it. Put it into a more set syllabic and rhythmic pattern.

A Poem From Last Fall

I went walking tonight,
out into the cold in my leather
coat and my khaki pants;
like some plus-sized Indiana Jones about
forty-six years late.

I smoked as I walked. Smoked
like I hadn't since I was
young; savoring each drag as if
I couldn't just go out and buy more.
Letting the smoke linger in my mouth before
it seeped into my lungs. The burn so
much better in slow motion.

Underneath a high-line I stopped and listened
to the crackling of one of the lines.
Power Surging
through it as I stood underneath. I
wondered if I was
the only one that could hear it.

There were jack rabbits in the clearing
next to my apartment complex.
Eking out life in a prairie
criss-crossed by the incessant
development of lights and noise.
They stared dumbly at me
as I walked by; unaware that they are out
of place. Relics clinging on in
a world on fire.

But I am out of place. I am
a train in a world used
to flying. I am alone in my own
patch of prairie; staring dumbly at
the world as it burns, in slow motion.

I used to criticize free form poetry. But now, I find that one can often find a unique sense of rythm and connectivity through that format.

Warren Peace

This weekend three of my friends and I performed in the Warren Fair's annual talent show. We were there to expose the good people of Warren with the joy of Barbershop. Our group (Jim Sele, Elliott Schwab, Evan Montgomery and me) is tentatively named the Lone Rangers but I am thinking that that name might be changing.

After eating way too much fair food (deep fried jalapeno cheese curds, fried walleye and a hot dog) it was our turn to compete. We mounted the stage and laid down some the beats with Sweet Adeline and Coney Island Baby. I like to believe that we really got the crowd going. It's hard not to when we have a bass as powerful as Mr. Jim Sele.

In the end we took second place at the show. But really, I think we won the day in that the president of the fair committee heard us and wants us to sing an hour set at the fair next year. That was a neat experience. Who knows, maybe we will bring back Barbershop.

After the fair we made the trek back to Fargo and after moving some furniture for a friend enjoyed a peaceful evening with friends... and beer.

That is all I have for now.

Dreams of Sleep

You might think that I am an early riser... well, sometimes that is the case. More often than not, though, I am just still up. I want to sleep, but at times it will just not let me. I crave sleep. I really do, I am not just staying up because I am an idiot that can't control how much television I watch or how many cups of coffee I drink... sometimes I just can't sleep. It is as if a thousand tiny cannons start firing ideas off all around my brain. Those thoughts apparently must be paid attention to or they will surely persist. So I pay heed to them... and they conquer me time and time again. So, sometimes I try meditation... and that works great ... about half of the time. I guess I am not yet a zen master.

I really think I just need to be so exhausted at bedtime that I have no choice but to sleep. That can be achieved either one of two ways. First, the world could top spinning as quickly. I figure if we just slow down to about thirty hours in a day I would have the perfect ration of waking to sleeping -11:4. Second, and more probable, I could motivate myself more in the fields of both the mind and the body. Perhaps if I exercise my thoughts into writing they may ease up on their madness invoking. That, tempered with more strenuous physical labor... well -I think it might do the body good.

Hence, a blog. I figure this is as good a way as any to exercise my mind. And if I state my ideas and goals to the world, I figure I will be much more likely to achieve them for myself.

Goal One: Write a novel by the end of the year. I have about five stories that I have been developing but have not really gotten anywhere on due to a combination of lack of time and little motivation.

Goal Two: Lose Weight. I really have to lose it... it is an embarrassment. My thyroid stopped working and my (former) doctor figured that my sudden, rapid, weight gain of 80 pounds in a year was probably due to drinking to much and partying all of the time. The thing is... I didn't drink that much and seldom partied. So, I went to another doctor... who being a doctor -and thus educated- decided to not just decide I was drinking myself to death, but rather, to run a few tests. Turns out I am extremely hypo-thyroidal. My body thinks it is imperative to store all of the nutrients it takes in. Thankfully I am now on a pill that balances out my thyroid so I don't have to worry about excessive fat storage anymore. However, I have found losing the weight to be much harder than gaining it. It is my goal to drop 80 pounds this year. I know that isn't supposed to be healthy... but neither is gaining it that fast. Having known what it feels like to be in extremely good shape and then to fall so far from ones former self is quite the experience. Interesting how much you can start to loath your body image.

Have you ever noticed how they put knife sharpeners on tons of products that don't need knife sharpeners? I have seen them on coffee pots, can openers, blenders, cats, etc etc. It's just ridiculous. Who is blending something, and while they are pureeing their dish, and thinks that "Hey... I could totally be sharpening a knife while I operate this appliance." I just don't know anymore.

Blogging reminds me of my first days in college. It is almost hard to believe that that was only five years ago.

It seems like so long ago now...

We were younger then, but so much older

than those we called friends.

You told me your story;

I told you mine -how we did it... I don't know-

and though we were miles apart

I felt closer

to you than to anyone before.

But now, as our bodies start the race

to catch up to our souls,

I hear the ground crack

under me. Feel it shake as it widens

into a black maw between

you and me.

Do I let go

and forsake memory;

or do I leap and in the process

either fall with the flame or

find my footing on your side

of our great divide.

I wonder who will read this? That is, if anyone does at all.